


Fistful of Love

by Polomonkey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Merlin needs this, Arthur can give it to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fistful of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fic that came to me in the middle of the night. Title taken from the Antony & the Johnsons song.

Arthur knows it’s going to be one of those nights the moment he walks in the flat. Even before a word is spoken, the air has a kind of humming tension in it, putting him on alert.

“I’m home,” he calls out and only hears a vague grunt from the kitchen in reply, which is never a good sign. Arthur’s torn between going straight in there and getting changed first. On nights like this, the sight of Arthur in his expensive suit and tie only sets Merlin off.

He decides to change, quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before coming back to the kitchen.

Merlin’s standing at the stove, cracking eggs into a frying pan with ruthless efficiency. His shoulders are taut and tense.

“Hey, love,” Arthur says, going to kiss his cheek and Merlin allows it, though he only nods in greeting.

There’s an empty bottle of beer on the table, and another half-drunk one next to it.

“How was your day?” Arthur asks, knowing the answer.

“Horrible,” Merlin says tersely, not turning round. “Yours?”

“Er, okay. Normal.” Arthur’s never really sure what the right answer is in times like this. Especially since it’s nearly always a bad day for Merlin at the café; as a first class graduate who can’t get a job in his field and hates serving coffee for a living. There’s nothing Arthur can say to make that better.

“Well, hope you like omelette, ‘cause that’s what we’re having,” Merlin says, his tone daring Arthur to argue.

“Omelette’s great,” Arthur says swiftly. “You need a hand?”

“Nope,” Merlin says tightly.

The omelette’s burned when Merlin serves it, but Arthur doesn’t say anything. He tries to make conversation over dinner but his boyfriend is monosyllabic and Arthur eventually gives up. He can feel tendrils of anxiety curling inside him, and he tries to think of what he can do to stop tonight from heading where it’s heading.

Distraction is the best plan but Arthur’s mind is blank. He’s hit with sudden inspiration and launches into a long but funny story about a particular client at work that day; realising too late that the story heavily involves his colleague Leon. 

Merlin’s not comfortable with Arthur’s friends in general, but he likes Percival and Leon the least. Arthur guesses it’s Percival’s sheer size that intimidates Merlin, reminds him of the boys he knew at school. With Leon, Merlin hates the fact that he’s old money, that he’s posh and effortlessly well heeled, and that he’s been Arthur’s best friend his whole life. Arthur suspects Merlin feels threatened by Leon’s loyalty to him as well, though he has no cause to be. Whatever Leon thinks or suspects about their relationship, he keeps it to himself. Arthur does catch him staring occasionally, when there’s a bruise on his neck that he’s jokingly passed off as a love bite, but Leon never says a word. 

Arthur watches Merlin’s mouth tighten as the story goes on, and mentally kicks himself. Merlin only offers a half smile at the punch line, before standing to clear the dishes into the kitchen.

When he returns, he slumps onto the sofa and Arthur hesitantly joins him.

Merlin has his eyes closed, and it’s a minute or two before he opens them.

“Are you even going to ask about my day?” he says tetchily, and Arthur kicks himself again. 

“Yes, of course. What happened?” he says hastily.

Merlin heaves a sigh.

“It wasn’t so bad at first, but then Emma had the dentist at half four so I said I could do the lock up by myself.”

His face takes on a bitter look.

“Bunch of posh boys from that private school downtown came in at ten to five. I tell them we’re about to close but they don’t care, they all want drinks and they all want cake.”

Merlin’s voice is speeding up, agitated.

“And I’m trying to clean up the rest of the tables and they keep asking me for water and stuff, fucking clicking at me like I’m their fucking butler.”

Merlin’s hands clench into fists.

“And then they finally get up to go and one guy beckons me over like “Sorry to cause such a fuss, here’s a nice big tip for you,” and he holds up this ten pound note and I sort of reach for it and he fucking… he drops it in his glass of water, pushes it right to the bottom. Then they all laugh.”

Arthur sucks in a breath. He knows exactly why Merlin’s so riled, even more than any normal reaction to such rudeness. Merlin was horribly bullied all through school, to the point where he had to change sixth forms after being thrown down a flight of stairs. Arthur feels something akin to physical pain when he thinks about what Merlin went through as a teenager. His boyfriend still has nightmares, still wakes up sobbing and shaking and clinging to Arthur, grieving for the years he spent living in fear.

Arthur has held Merlin as he cries and sworn to always protect him, and never hurt him the way he’d been hurt before. But he can’t stop the outside world from bringing Merlin back to that dark place in his head. Like today, triggering him to remember past humiliations visited upon him by schoolboys. If only Arthur had been there…

A harsh flick to the side of his head brings him back to the present.

“Are you even listening to me?” Merlin says sharply.

“Yes, of course,” Arthur says quickly but Merlin’s eyes are already narrowing.

“Am I boring you, Arthur?” he says, a hint of danger in his tone. “Is it tedious for you, listening to me talk about my pathetic little café job when you’ve spent all day mingling with the business elite?”

He punctuates his sentence with another flick to Arthur’s temple. It stings, but only a little, and Arthur tries to focus on de-escalating the situation.

“You could never bore me,” he says. “The people at my job bore me, but you don’t.”

It’s completely true but he can tell by Merlin’s expression that he’s not convinced.

Merlin studies his face for a moment, then his lip curls slightly.

“You know what I thought, when all those lads came in and started throwing their weight around?” he says softly.

Arthur shakes his head, dread creeping into his stomach.

“I thought, I bet this is what Arthur was like as a teenager. I bet he and his little friends used to show up places and expect the world to pay attention to them. I bet he thought it was funny to take the piss out of minimum wage drones like me.”

“I didn’t,” Arthur says, his mouth dry. “I swear.”

“Liar,” Merlin says evenly. “Leon still acts like he’s king of the world, and I can just see you sniggering along as he bossed people around.”

Denial’s getting Arthur nowhere so he decides to risk a change in tack. He gets up from the sofa and tugs Merlin to his feet, wrapping him in an embrace. 

“I’m sorry you had such a shitty day,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on his neck but Merlin is stiff in his arms before he pushes him away.

“You can’t just hug me and make everything okay,” Merlin says, his face reddening. “You never want to fucking listen to me. I’m not some problem you can just wave money or sex at and I’ll go away.” 

“I wasn’t trying to-”

“See, that’s your problem Arthur, you never want to deal with anything like an adult. I bet you wish you had a servant you could pass me off to right now.”

“You’re not being fair,” Arthur says quietly and Merlin’s eyes flash in anger.

“Fair?” he says, giving Arthur a little shove. “You don’t know shit about fair.”

“Just calm down,” Arthur pleads and instantly he knows it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” Merlin shouts, shoving him again. “I can’t even tell you about my day without you trying to shut me up or block me out. Why the fuck do I even bother when you clearly don’t care?”

“I do care-”

“You don’t, you fucking don’t, you only care about yourself!”

The first slap is not that hard, but it still knocks Arthur off balance and he stumbles back a few paces.

“I’m so sick of you treating me like this!”

The next blow catches him just below his breast bone and he drops to his knees, winded. He can’t get back to his feet but he wouldn’t try anyway, it’d only make Merlin angrier at this stage.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

The cuff to the back of his head sends him reeling to the floor where he tries to curl in on himself, protect his stomach from the kick he knows is coming.

“Fucking say something! Stop ignoring me!”

His attempts to curl up are futile. Merlin lands two kicks on his torso in quick succession and Arthur groans as quietly as possible, trying to breathe through the pain. He doesn’t look up at his boyfriend’s face, already knowing what he’d see, the rage and hatred there. He squeezes his eyes shut instead and when there’s finally enough air in his lungs, he says:

“Sorry… please, I’m sorry…”

There’s a long pause and he doesn’t dare look up, because it’s fifty/fifty whether he’s been forgiven or whether he’s made Merlin even madder.

Then he feels his boyfriend fall to his knees beside him, and a gentle hand on his back.

“Oh Arthur,” Merlin says softly.

Forgiveness, then. Arthur unclenches in relief, and opens his eyes. Merlin’s hovering over him, looking concerned.

“Can you stand?” he asks, and Arthur nods, and lets Merlin help him to his feet. He can’t stop the whimper of pain that comes when his stomach straightens and Merlin takes a little more of his weight.

“Bedroom,” he says and they make slow progress across the hall, until Arthur finally reaches the bed and lies down.

“Let’s take a look at you,” Merlin says gently, and eases Arthur’s t-shirt off. Bruises are already forming where the brunt of the beating took place and Merlin clucks his tongue. 

“I’ll get the cream,” he says and goes to the bathroom. Arthur lies back and takes several juddery breaths, adrenaline gradually leaving his system to be replaced by an ache that runs through his whole body.

When Merlin returns, he dabs the cream on with exquisite care, almost reverence. It’s all part of the ritual and Arthur knows when Merlin puts the cap on the tube and places it on the bedside table, he’ll turn back to Arthur and say…

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Merlin’s eyes fill up with tears, his hands trembling as his features twist with guilt.

“It’s okay,” Arthur says, meaning it.

“No it’s not, it’s not, I should never have… oh my God.”

The tears are falling freely now, Merlin’s face white and drawn. Arthur reaches out his hand.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, as he catches hold of Merlin’s. “I forgive you.”

Merlin’s face crumples.

“Don’t forgive me,” he sobs. “I don’t deserve it.”

Arthur tugs him forward. 

“I love you,” he says. “Get in bed.”

Still weeping, Merlin climbs onto the mattress to lie next to Arthur. He curls his body into his boyfriend’s, hands lightly caressing Arthur’s stomach.

“Never again,” he says fervently. “I promise. Never again.”

It’s not true, but Arthur doesn’t mind right now, still feeling the relief of the storm passing. And it won’t happen again for at least a week, maybe two or three if he’s lucky. He can relax now. 

The waiting is always the worst part. When the dam finally breaks, it’s like a release. Arthur lies back, the tension seeping out of his body. It wasn’t even that bad tonight. His hand unconsciously drifts to the burn mark on his hip as he reminds himself how much worse it could have been.

But it wasn’t. And everything’s alright now. He can cocoon himself in the soft murmur of Merlin’s voice, secure in the knowledge that he’ll sleep like the dead tonight, safe from harm.

He knows it’s not normal. Knows it’s not right, not really. But it’s what they have. If it’s the price to pay for being with Merlin, he’ll gladly pay it.

He also knows what people would say if they ever found out. _Why don’t you just stop him? You’re bigger than he is, stronger than he is. Just fight back._

It’s not an option. The one and only time he raised his hand to another human being was when he pushed his sister Morgana into the bath aged ten; and his father had given him the talking to of his life.

“You must never ever use your strength against someone less powerful than you,” Uther had said, his face and tone intent. “It’s cowardly and it’s wrong.”

Arthur had taken the lesson to heart. He never fought with the other boys at school, and even when he and his uni mates were attacked by a drunken crowd of lads on a night out, he only defended himself. He didn’t throw a single punch. 

He never feels moved to violence. It’s not Arthur’s way; he doesn’t have it in him. And especially not towards Merlin. How could he hurt the one person he loves more than anything? The thought makes him sick. 

He knows other people won’t understand, which is why he doesn’t tell them. They’d want him to leave Merlin, and he never could. He’s nothing without him.

And Merlin’s been through so much… It’s not his fault. If Merlin didn’t have an outlet, he’d turn all that anger and pain in on himself. Arthur can take it better than he can. Absorb the damage.

If Merlin needs this, Arthur can give it to him.

 

That night Merlin makes love to him, slow and tender. He always spoils Arthur in the aftermath, pressing kisses all over his body, sucking him off unhurriedly, making it all about Arthur’s pleasure. He tells Arthur he loves him, over and over, lists all the things he likes best about him. He’s so attentive and affectionate that occasionally Arthur thinks it’s worth all the stuff that comes before, as long as he gets to see this side of Merlin. The things his boyfriend says to him often hurt more than the blows he deals, and so Arthur loves being reassured like this, hearing that Merlin does value him after all, does cherish him.

When they’re ready to sleep, Merlin drapes himself over Arthur carefully, mindful of the bruises.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, stroking Arthur’s hair. “I’m so lucky.”

Arthur basks in the praise, luxuriates in it. He caresses Merlin’s back, tracing his fingers across smooth skin. 

“Tell me you love me,” he says.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Merlin grabs Arthur’s hand and squeezes.

“Never leave me,” he says. 

“Never,” Arthur promises.

Merlin grips his hand tighter, just hard enough to hurt. 

Arthur grips back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading :) I may do a companion oneshot from Merlin's perspective if I can work it out.


End file.
